On My Own
by thekeeperofwords
Summary: A young man prevented against his will from becoming a knight joins the Kings Own and finds a unique brotherhood there he embraces. His journey with the Own takes him to the Scanran border, until an attack causes life as he knows it to end. Set in Squire
1. Chapter 1

_January of the year 459 H.E._

_Northwatch Tower_

_Army Incident Report_

They call what happened an "incident." I guess that's all twenty dead men—good men—are to these people. They didn't train with them, fight beside them, dig out latrines with them, or huddle around a fire with them while we were exposed, without a fort, during the dead of a northern winter. So to them, twenty dead men are just twenty fewer soldiers, and a convenient excuse to blame someone other than themselves for what happened.

They tell me I have to write down everything that happened that day…from the beginning. Well, when exactly is the beginning? When we woke up that morning? Or when my squad joined the First? Maybe even when we were first sent north to protect the border from the growing Scanran threat?

I don't know where to begin. The loss of those twenty men does not start with the morning of their deaths and end with the setting of that day's sun. Those men were brave, and good, and trying to justify their deaths with this report—calling their deaths an "incident" like they died from some accident or misstep of their own doing—it's wrong. Do you know the saying I learned from my years in the King's Own? "In the Own, never alone." So why did I find myself alone in a forest in northern Tortall that day? I should never have survived that attack.

But, if this is what it takes for me to get out of here and back to the Own, I guess I'll start at the very beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1.

My name is Arence of Gravelle. Like most young men, I dreamed from boyhood of becoming a knight and obtaining glory and riches. The riches, especially, enticed me. Our fief, in the southeast of Tortall, has long been victim to bad harvests caused by drought, flooding…sometimes drought and flooding in the same year, as unlikely as that sounds. I wish I could say that my father was able to salvage what harvest we had left and turn it into a profit, thereby being able to feed our people. Sadly, that usually wasn't the case.

My father, Sir Warlow, sustained an injury in the Tusaine War that confined him to a chair for most of the time. On his really good days he was able to move around with the aid of a walking stick. For a long time, his pride provided enough impetus for him to act like he was having those good days, even when it caused him such pain to be walking about that I'll never understand how he was able to do it. Riding his horse seemed to be a little more manageable for him, so he was able to get around Gravelle and see to our people's needs. That was back when he at least tried to keep us out of debt.

Then, in the year 445 H.E., my mother died. I was six years old, so I don't remember her very well. Just that she had brown hair and skin like snow. And that she did her best to keep my father motivated. She had been sick for a while when she gave birth to Costan, my only brother, and died shortly afterward. My father often said that Costan was the last and best present my mother had ever given him. I knew better than to feel bad when I'd hear him say this. My father and my mother had been deeply in love, and I suspect her death broke his spirit. Costan looks so much more like her than I do, with his light brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes, that it must have given my father comfort to see her in him. I, on the other had, inherited only her pale ivory skin. My raven-black hair and honey-golden eyes must have come from some distant relative I never knew.

After my mother's death my father sank completely into indifference. That's not to say that he didn't do his best to love us boys, but his injury, along with the stress of running a struggling fief and the heartbreak of losing my mother, seemed to be too much for him to handle. I guess the only thing worth mentioning of those dismal, intervening years before I turned seventeen was my own personal heartbreak when he told me in the spring of 450 H.E. that we wouldn't be able to afford a knight's training for me. I knew he felt badly that our family's money trouble was keeping me from my dream of knighthood, but as he had grown to rely on me so much to run the fief, even at my young age, I think he was secretly relieved that I wouldn't be leaving him.

Then, in 456 H.E., the Gods blessed us with a windfall that would change my family's life forever. It was in the spring of that year that my maternal uncle, Varick of Rivken, died without any heirs. Although his fiefdom reverted to the property of the Crown, all his wealth and possessions went to his closest living kin: Costan and I. I had just passed my seventeenth birthday and Costan was approaching his eleventh, so the newfound wealth seemed like the best birthday present ever. For the first time in years, my father seemed like his former self. He managed to walk out to the stable and mount his favorite (but now quite old) horse and take a ride around his ailing lands. Though the money technically belonged to me and Costan, my father immediately put it to use in setting Gravelle back to rights, and we couldn't have been happier. Then, that summer, as the buildings were being restored and the fields were ripe and in bloom, my father called us into his study. I remember the conversation well.

"Arence, Costan." His eyes were warm and lively as he addressed each of us—a welcome change from the lifeless pools we had grown accustomed to. "My two fine sons. I am proud of the young men you became in times of hardship. But I am prouder still of the men you will become now that fortune smiles on us."

Costan glanced inquisitively at me. Why would the two of us change now?

My father took a deep breath. "No point in beating around the bush. Arence, six years ago you wanted nothing more than to go to Corus to begin your page training. Sadly, at that time, we simply didn't have the funds for it to be possible. Now, however, the circumstances have changed." He turned towards Costan.

_No_, I thought to myself. _No, no, no._ I knew where this was going. I didn't want to resent my brother for the way our new wealth would benefit him in ways it couldn't help me.

"You, Costan," my father continued, "are the proper age to begin your knight training. I see no reason why you should not go. Page training will be starting soon, and I'd like you to get to Corus right away."

Costan's face lit up with joy before it was suddenly replaced with a look of guilt as he snuck a glance at me. I did my best to keep the disappointment I felt off my face.

"Go now, Costan," my father commanded. "Collect your things. You'll go as soon as Arence is ready to take you." Costan hesitated for a moment, looking as if he wanted to say something to me, before fleeing the room. Within a minute I could hear him yelling exuberantly to his friends from town. "Arence." My father's tone forced me to meet his eyes. "I know how disappointed you must be. I've heard of men starting their page training late. If you wanted—"

"No," I interrupted. In my mind, beginning my page training with a brother six years my junior was unacceptable to me.

"I thought you'd feel that way," my father said gently. "But I still feel it isn't fair to you to have to accompany your brother to Corus for his page training, without gaining anything for yourself. I'd bring him myself, but my condition simply wouldn't allow it…"

"I understand, father," I said. "I'm happy for Costan. He will make a wonderful knight."

"As would you. I'm sorry things did not turn out that way. However, I've been thinking, and I believe I have found another option. I would like you to attend University. You're bright and quick-witted, and I think you'd do well as a magistrate or an advocate. Now that we can afford it, I don't see why you couldn't—"

"No, father," I interrupted again. Immediately I regretted the sharpness of my tone. "The only life I've ever wanted is one of a warrior. I just don't think I would ever be happy as a scholar."

My father sighed, resigned to my determination. "Thank you for bringing your brother to Corus, Arence. If there is a way I can repay you, for everything, just let me know."

"Of course, father." I turned to leave. As I reached the door, my father's voiced stopped me.

"I just ask one more thing of you," he implored. I listened but didn't turn around. "Please, don't join the army. The men there are commoners, and as such are treated like fodder at the front lines. Commanders don't see army soldiers as anything more than one more body to throw at the enemy. You're better than that."

I paused with my hand on the door handle. Had he known I was thinking of doing just that? After a moment I gave a curt nod, feeling stick to my stomach and feeling like I was throwing away my last chance at happiness. I opened the door and left.

Costan and I were on our way to Corus the next morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

I hadn't been to Corus in years. It was bigger, noisier, and more crowded than I remembered. As we crested a hill overlooking the Olorun, I drew up my mount. As a parting gift to my brother and me, my father had bought us each new horses. Mine was a quick and long-legged mare I had named Whisper. Something in her gray coat and dark mane reminded me of the wind whispering through the trees, always just out of sight and uncatchable. Costan, on the other hand, had opted for a big chestnut gelding. He had two white socks on his forelegs, prompting Costan to name him Greaves, after the pieces of armor worn on one's shins.

Costan stopped next to me, his eyes wide. He had never been to the capital before, and I could tell he was both awed and intimidated by the sight. I gave him a minute or two to compose himself before nudging Whisper down the road that would lead us into Corus.

I won't bother going into detail about our trip through the city. We stopped several times, armed with the fat coin purse out father had given us, to buy a few things at various shops and stalls. One such shop was an armory where I helped Costan pick out a small sword. It was here that my jealousy began to really gnaw at me, but I hid it as best I could. As a consolation, I also purchased myself a fine dagger.

Next we found a reputable inn with rooms for rent. I left most of my baggage and belongings in my room, with the exception of my new dagger, which I belted around my waist. It wasn't as good as the sword a knight would wear, but it at least might deter any would-be thieves from bothering us.

Costan grew more and more quiet as we made our way to the palace. Though his skin naturally quite was white as mine, it was certainly attaining that colorless hue as the day wore on. Never having done page training before, I didn't know what to say to comfort him.

Finally we reached the palace and were directed to where we could find the training master. We stabled our horses and walked to his office on foot. Just before I knocked on his door, I nudged Costan and told him to take a deep breath and make a good impression.

"Enter," came a commanding voice. I opened the door and preceded Costan into the room.

"Lord Wyldon," I said, making a bow. After a moment, Costan followed my lead. "My name is Arence of Gravelle, and this is my brother Costan." Costan took a step forward as he was presented.

Wyldon regarded us with stern eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. I took in the scar that marred his face, and remembered the story I had heard of him risking his life to protect the royal nursery. I was envious of his opportunity to show his bravery, and the scar he wore as a token of his courage.

"Yes, I received a letter from your father saying Costan would be starting his page training. I have already arranged the necessary details." His head tilted as he seemed to ponder me for a moment. "You did not try for your knighthood, Arence?"

"No, sir," was all I was able to say. I was thankful that he didn't press the subject.

"Well, Costan, what happens now is straightforward enough. I, or your brother if you'd prefer, shall accompany you to the page quarters. We already have a room ready for you. There, you will meet your yearmates, and will be assigned a sponsor, who will bring you around the palace and help teach you the ropes. Your sponsor will also help you get supplied, which will include a page's uniform and practice gear. I see you have a sword." Costan already wore his sword hopefully at his waist. "That is fine for you to own and keep in your room, but is not to be used in your training. Pages are given wooden practice swords in their third year. You also know, of course, that pages are not permitted horses of their own." My brother's eyes widened in alarm and he opened his mouth to protest. I gripped his arm to stop him. "I'm sorry, but that is the rule. You will be given a palace mount for training that you may use for the duration of your training. The mount you brought, of course, can be stabled and cared for here." He drew a deep breath and I could tell he was coming to the end of this speech that he had given so many times. "Your sponsor will educate you on my rules, but know that when rules are broken, I expect you to do your punishments without complaint. You are here to become a man and a knight, and both shoulder their responsibilities and accept the consequences of their actions. Now, if you'd like a moment alone before I accompany you to your room in the pages' wing…?"

At this point, I was afraid Costan has lost the use of his voice entirely. He gave Wyldon a shaky nod and I steered him from the room into the hallway. His eyes were panicked and I could tell that he had not anticipated becoming a page so quickly.

"Well, brother, it's time for you to go," I told him. "Do your work thoroughly and diligently. Be respectful to your teachers and your training masters." I scanned my brain, thinking of what other advice I could give him. Having no experience in the matter, I found myself coming up blank. Then, I gave him the advice I had always tried to follow myself. "Don't pick fights, but never run from one. Earn respect from your peers and your superiors. You have this amazing opportunity to become a knight of the realm—don't throw it away. Don't worry about Greaves; I'll look after him. I'm going to be staying in Corus, at least for a while. And…good luck."

Still speechless, Costan threw his arms around me. Lord Wyldon opened the door and motioned he would like to go. Costan nodded to me and turned to walk away with Lord Wyldon. As he went, I saw him square his shoulders and lift his head, and he finally started to talk was Wyldon asked him questions. I didn't wait around to watch him walk away.

I put Greaves on a lead behind me and returned to the inn. I stabled him there until I could figure out a more permanent solution. I didn't even know what my own future plans were yet. As it was still early evening, I whiled away the rest of the sunlight by riding around the city. As the sun set, I made my way back along the cobbled street and put Whisper in for the night. As I hadn't eaten since late morning, I didn't go straight to my room. Instead, I sat down at a table by the fire, where a serving girl soon approached me.

"What's your fancy?" She asked, with a sideways glance that indicated she wasn't only offering me food. I brushed it off.

"Whatever stew you've got, and a pint please." She shrugged at my indifference and walked away. As I waited for my food, I pulled out my new dagger and started scratching at the rough wooden table.

"You know, she was pretty cute," said a young man sitting in a chair near me. I hadn't taken much notice of him before. "Not my type," I said.

He indicated the empty chair across from me at the table. "May I?"

I nodded, and made closer inspection of him as he sat down. In the better lighting, I could tell that he was around my age, with short, sandy hair, and was well dressed—most likely nobility.

He reached out his hand to introduce himself. "Donovan of Fenrigh," he said.

I extended my hand to return the gesture, remembering—too late—that I still held my new dagger. He jerked his hand out of the way just in time to avoid being impaled.

"Trying to take out the competition already?" He asked with a good-natured laugh.

I smiled ruefully and sheathed the dagger. "For the serving girl? She's all yours. Arence of Gravelle, by the way." I shook his hand properly.

"Not for her, for the Own! I hear they only want four or five men."

I shrugged and shook my head uncomprehendingly. "Don't know what you're talking about."

He gaped at me. "You're not here to join the King's Own? I just figured—you're not a knight and you're the right age. I just assumed you had come because they're recruiting."

"Sorry," I said, "I don't even known what the King's Own is."

Donovan nearly spit out the sip he had just taken. He slammed his tankard down onto the table. "Never heard of the King's Own? It's a fighting unit made up of nobles and wealthy merchants' sons. They're the Crown's enforcers; get to do all kinds of special missions that the Army is too big and disorganized for. Used to be, it was just a cozy assignment for younger sons of nobles. Now, with Lord Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak in charge, they're Tortall's most elite units. My cousin Emmet is in it, in Third Company."

Immediately, I was hooked. "How many companies are there?"

"Three, with ten squads in each. They're recruiting now, which is why I'd assumed you were here to join."

I leaned forward eagerly. This was the answer to my problems! I could still be a warrior, without breaking my promise to my father. "Can I still join?"

"You can try," Donovan said, raising his eyebrows. "It's really selective. Interviews start tomorrow and run all week. I'm going as early as I can tomorrow."

Donovan and I spent the rest of the evening talking about the King's Own, and then retired for the night to get a good rest. When we woke up, we went together to where the interviews for the King's Own were being held.


End file.
